Those Other Dreams
by divine one
Summary: Mark and Callie have been apart for years now. But is there still hope? Still something real? Response to Mark Callie LJ Blinde number challenge
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE** Those Other Dreams  
**CHAPTER** 1/2  
**AUTHOR** Devylish  
**FANDOM** Grey's Anatomy  
**PAIRING** Callie/Mark  
**WORDS** 3542  
**RATING** PG13  
**WARNINGS/SPOILERS/SUMMARY** Language. 5:20. Part one of my entry for the Mark_Callie LJ Blind Number Challenge. Items chosen: Mrs. Torres, Lab coat, Denver.  
**DISCLAIMER** **Disclaimer** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show **Grey's Anatomy**. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show **Grey's Anatomy** and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.  
**AN **unbeta'd

* * *

"Very nice Calliope," her mother eyed the length and width and depth of her daughter's new apartment.

Callie sighed with relief. Her mother was wonderful, the epitome of a loving, caring, sweet, and strong woman; but her 'wonderfulness' was a huge weapon. The kind of 'I hate to disappoint her weapon that her kids… and husband were deeply afraid of'.

So getting her mom's nod of approval on her new place was big. Also big? Having her mother in town now that she, Callie, was persona non gratis in Miami.

"How's papa?"

Mrs. Torres plumped up a couch pillow before sitting down with a sigh. "He misses his bambina."

"Yeah well, he can see his bambina anytime he wants to admit that she is old enough to be in charge of her own life."

"Calliope…"

"No, mama! Daddy's being stubborn and, and… antiquated." She dropped down on to her knees at her mother's feet. "You know why I wanted to become a doctor?"

Her mother touched her cheek soothingly. "Because Juan stated he had a fleeting interest in becoming one?"

"No. Well, yes, a little bit, but really, I wanted to make daddy proud. To live up to his expectations." She turned and sat on her tush, leaning her head against her mother's knee. "When we were growing up, daddy always, always said how important it was to treat everyone with respect. And to help anyone who needed your help." Callie smiled at the memories. "He would stop and help Abuela Fischer -- a woman who never had a kind word for anyone -- with her lawn every week. Why? Because she needed the help. It didn't matter how mean she was…. And the Evans! When they moved into the house down the street, the uproar in the neighborhood – _blacks, in 'our' neighborhood_ – Daddy stopped by and helped Mr. Evans with his car; he MADE Juan and the other boys go over and play with the Evans' boys… when no one else would even talk to them."

"Mr. and Mrs. Evans are wonderful people. She made the most wonderful chicken cacciatore for us last week."

"I know they're wonderful people. But no one knew that 25 years ago. And no one… NO one was even talking to them. Daddy did it because he said everyone deserved to be respected until they showed you otherwise…. And even then, sometimes they still deserved respect. How can he be so hypocritical?"

"Baby…"

"He finds out I'm dating…" her voice dropped, "I'm dating a woman – a wonderful woman -- and he wipes his hands clean of me. Where's the respect due me? The respect due Arizona?! At this point, I don't know if I want to be re-owned, or… or un-disowned… whatever."

"Calliope."

"What?"

"Your father and I had three boys. Three beautiful boys, and we were more or less done with having kids thereafter." She smiled as she petted her daughter's head, "We were done, that is, until your father convinced me to try one more time. And then we were blessed with a daughter. With you…. Your father was so excited when you were born; when he finally got the little princess, the little angel he was looking for. Oh don't get me wrong, he loves your brothers, but you… oh, sweetheart, you have always had his heart. Always. From the moment you were born, your father dreamed of your fifth birthday party, of your Quincenera…, your wedding day… your giving him grandkids. Granddaughters. More little girls to wrap around his heart." She shifted slightly and lifted her daughter's chin so that Callie was looking up at her. "I think… as open hearted, and caring your father is,.. the loss of some of those dreams has been very very difficult for him."

"We could have still had a wedding" Callie pouted. "Weddings for... for same sex relationships are possible in some states." Callie lowered her head back to her mother's leg.

"I am not saying I agree with your father's actions Callie. But… I want you to understand them… if you can."

"Why should I understand them? He won't even try to understand my actions. My feelings!"

"Sweetheart, he'll come around, you just have to give him time to accept; to… learn to change his dreams a bit."

"I thought parents' dreams were suppose to be for their kids to be happy and healthy."

Mrs. Torres laughed… a little, lilting, chortle. "Darling, when you have your own –" she paused, and rephrased her sentence. "Having children changes everything for you. And while, at heart, having a happy healthy child is all that truly matters, parents -- all parents I think -- imagine their children 'doing what they never did', becoming ballerinas, becoming doctors, becoming humanitarians. We want our children to have it all. What **we** envision as 'all'. Right now, your father is just having a difficult time adjusting his vision of 'all', to match your reality. To match your vision of 'having it all'."

Callie nuzzled her cheek against her mother's leg for a second and then she climbed off of her spot on the floor.

"Yeah well, if he'd bothered remaining in contact with me, he'd know he doesn't exactly have to re-envision his dreams just yet." Callie mumbled as she padded to the kitchen, the only room in the apartment that was completely unpacked, and de-boxed. Opening the fridge she pulled out a bottle of Riesling and grabbed two wineglasses.

"Do you want to explain that little statement?" Her mother followed her to the kitchen, seating herself on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"… Arizona and I broke up…, a month ago."

Her mother accepted her glass of wine before speaking. "I'm sorry honey. What happened?"

Callie threw back her glass of wine in one swallow and poured herself a second glass. "I don't know," she responded bitterly. "She said something about not thinking I was as 'in to her' as she was 'in to me'." Callie glanced at her mom. "What the fuck does that even mean?" She ignored the wince her mother gave at her 'inappropriate language' and continued. "Who fucking gave up her family for whom?!" Callie muttered and sipped at her wine.

"Oh Callie…"

"Why does this always happen to me mama? I mean, I find a guy," she blinked, "or a girl who I think is wonderful, and who seems to find me equally wonderful, at least for a while, and then they drop kick me to the curb. And I would like to point out that it is always THEM who drop kicks **me**…" she gave a small spin, "is there really a 'kick here' sign on my ass?"

"Callie, language please! And no, there is no –"

_Brrrrrrrzzzzz. Brrrrrrrzzzzz._

Callie cocked her head to the side, _who the hell was ringing her bell_? Moving to the buzzer, she pressed the button. "Hello?"

"Torres!" A well recognized voice bellowed at her.

She blinked then pressed the speaker button again. "Sloan?"

"Let me up Torres."

_What the fuck is Sloan doing here_? "Now isn't really a good time Mark."

"Why not? Have another guy up there? Or another girl? If it's another girl definitely let me up."

Callie's mom cleared her throat and Callie remembered her presence.

"What do you want Mark?"

"World peace?"

"Asshole."

"_Callie," _Her mom admonished.

"Callie, let me up."

"Fine, you have three minutes then your ass is out of here." She pressed the buzzer.

Turning back to the kitchen, Callie frowned. Mark was like a bad penny, always turning up when she least expected or wanted him.

Her mother touched her face, smoothing the frown off of it. "So 'Mark'? Is this the Mark your father had slammed against a wall? The Mark who I sometimes hear you talk about?"

Callie sighed and hugged her mom for strength. "The same." She pulled away and headed to the door to open and unlock it. "I should probably warn you, es muy lascivo. I'm sorry in advance."

Her mother simply smiled. Esteban had been a bit lascivious when he was younger too. Her smile widened, as a matter of fact, he was still lascivious.

Callie padded back to the kitchen and was pulling out a third wine glass for Mark, when the door to her apartment was shoved open.

"Jesus Christ, Callie! Could you have found an apartment with more stairs?" He pushed into her new home, his two gift bags in one hand, and a bottle Jack Daniels in the other. Coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of a woman he _didn't _know in the middle of Callie's new place, his mouth dropped open. Before him stood a woman who was the spitting image of Callie. An older spitting image, but just as striking.

"Mark meet my mother Anastacia Torres; Mom, Dr. Mark Sloan."

Mrs. Torres extended her hand and, well, smirked at the open mouthed Mark. "Dr. Sloan, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

_  
Oh, yeah, Mrs. Torres was much, much nicer than Mr. Torres_. Mark stopped staring, closed his mouth and took her hand. "I'm going to say what I'm thinking –"

"Like that's anything new," Callie interjected.

Ignoring Callie, Mark continued, "Wow!"

Mrs. Torres looked over her shoulder at her daughter who was pouring Mark a glass of wine. "Es un coqueteo, no es él?"

"Es incorregible, simplemente no lo animan."

"Me gustan mis hombres un poco picante."

"Mama!"

Mark cleared his throat,

"I'm sorry Dr. Sloan, we're being rude. I was just telling Callie how handsome you are."

Callie groaned and handed Mark his glass.

"Mark. Please call me Mark. And I don't believe you _could_ be rude, Mrs. Torres."

"Anastacia; if you're Mark, I'm Anastacia."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

"Excuse me while I go puke," Callie exclaimed as she wandered into the living room.

"Not paying you enough attention Callie?" Mark questioned.

"Pffft!"

He turned and smiled apologetically to Mrs. Torres before trailing after Callie. "If it makes you feel any better, I come bearing gifts for you." He held up the gift bags he held in his hand. "Although, um," the look he gave Mrs. Torres this time was more sheepish than apologetic. "Umm, you better open the big one in private."

"Why?" Callie settled on her new couch and stared up at him confusedly. After a few seconds, realization of the kind of gift Mark probably had inside of the 'big bag' hit her. She blushed and glanced in her mother's direction before turning back to Mark. "You can just keep dreaming Mark. It's so not happening."

They hadn't 'been together' for two years now. No nookie, no calling one another to shoot the shit, no sharing of tears or laughter. It had been a Lexie filled, Arizona filled, Mark/Callie free, two years. Arizona had been great, and she supposed, Lexie had been great, but the no Mark/Callie part of that time frame? It had sucked. It had sucked big hairy balls.

But they were both free now. Lexie had dumped Mark. _Yeah, that's right Lexie dumped Mark, about six months ago._ And she was now engaged to Dr. Raj Majapal, an extremely nice, extremely handsome, ob gyn.

_Lucky bitch._ First she gets Mark, and then she breaks up with him and immediately finds the man of her dreams; while Callie… Callie found herself all alone again.

But she wasn't thinking about that today. Today she was thinking about spending a few days with her mom. And ignoring the suddenly reoccurring inappropriate come-ons from Mark Sloan.

He responded, "I have patience. I think I can outwait you."

Mrs. Torres watched the exchange between her daughter and Mark, listening to them bicker in a way that could only be described as sexual. She studied Dr. Sloan. _Tall, almost sinfully good looking. I wonder just how much he really likes my Callie?_ A twinkle in her eye, and she decided that maybe she could do more good for Callie these next few days than she had planned.

"So Mark, you're staying to have dinner with the two of us, are you not?" Mrs. Torres flashed a brilliant smile in his direction. An undeniable unfightable smile.

"I," _Jesus she looks like Callie_! Mark glanced at Callie who was giving him a death stare. He decided to do what he wanted to do versus doing what was probably wiser; i.e. leaving. "I'd love to stay. What are we having?"

"Callie is a brilliant woman, but one of the few things she doesn't know how to do, is cook. I'm teaching her how to make my Arroz con pollo y mi salsa verde."

"If it tastes half as good as it sounds…"

Callie got up from the couch -- still shooting Mark a look that would shrink a man with a smaller ego -- and she interrupted the disturbing love fest between her mother and Mark. "My mother is a fabulous cook… and I'm hopeless in the kitchen; unfortunately, she hasn't come to accept that fact yet, so… if she really insists upon having me do the cooking tonight…. I apologize in advance, Mark." She switched topics quickly, "So what IS in the bags?"

Mark handed her the smaller of the two bags, and she scrunched up her nose as she looked at him, trying to decipher the look that passed over his face. A look of awkwardness; hell, he almost looked embarrassed. But Mark Sloan didn't embarrass, nothing ever pushed him far from confidence that was inherent in being McSteamy.

She pulled at the tissue papers - yellows and reds – that were sprouting out of the bag, and her hand closed around… a cd case. _A_ _mixed cd, he made me a mixed cd_?

Mark started speaking before Callie could mock the cd – his mind berating him for stupidly taking the time to make a gift. _I should have just fucking bought her earrings or a necklace or something._

"I – we had that talk a while ago, a couple of years ago, about music? And a week or two ago I was just thinking that I wanted to share some of my favorites with you…. It's' nothing special." _And could I sound MORE like a dork? Shit! Derek's sissyness is finally rubbing off on me._

And then she hugged him. She hadn't touched him or been closer than two feet from him in years. _To have her in his arms, smell her hair again, feel her breath at his neck…._

"Thank you Mark. It's the perfect gift." She pulled away from him, her eyes bright, "new music, for my new home, from an old… friend."

Mrs. Torres studied the way the two of them looked at one another, forgetful, unaware, that someone else was in the room with them. _Oh there was something there all right. There was definitely something there. _

***

Mark had just left, after a long afternoon and evening of food, drinks, and laughter, and to Callie her home suddenly felt – emptier. The space too big, the walls too cold, too hard. She wrapped her hands around her arms as she followed her mother back into the living room.

"So are you going to tell me about you and Mark?"

Her mother's question pierced through the bubble of self focus Callie had been in. "Me and Mark?" She played dumb.

Her mother tilted her head to the side, and raised a brow.

"Mark is – was – is a good friend."

"A friend who… shared your bed?"

"Mama!" Callie turned beet red.

"What?"

"I can't talk to you about – I won't talk to you about my sex life."

"So Mark IS part of your sex life?"

Callie sighed. "Past tense. All done. No more. Separated by a ten foot pole."

"Simple question. Long answer."

Another sigh, "We have a long complicated past."

***

Callie had spent most of the rest of the night, ignoring, navigating, answering, her mother's probing questions about the status of her relationship with Mark Sloan. Finally tired of getting only half-answers from Callie about the size, length, and breadth of Mark/Callieness, Mrs. Sloan had taken to bed, racking her brain for a way to get Mark Sloan and Callie together.

If nothing else, the fireworks would be interesting to watch.

***

Callie was seated on the couch - the television on low, its flickering screen the only light in the room - as she fingered the white lace. She didn't know whether to laugh or scream or cry at Mark. She'd opened gift bag number two, now that her mother was asleep, and… the man had bought her underwear. Expensive, lacy, sexy, underwear. In her size. _When the hell had he learned my size?!_

It was beautiful underwear – demibra, boy shorts, and sheer white thigh highs – but, Mark couldn't give her these kind of things anymore. Not that he ever had bought her underwear or lingerie before, but… before, before Lexie, before Arizona… there had been a 'them' -- a Mark/Callie – that would have allowed for there to be the exchange of lace and silk and satin.

There wasn't a 'them' anymore. She wasn't that person anymore. She wasn't 'his' Callie.

And he definitely wasn't her Mark.

Although, as she touched the lace she wondered if this was his way of saying he wanted to be her Mark again.

She lowered her head to the chair of the arm curling the cloth up against her chin and tucking her legs up against her body. She didn't think she could do it again. She couldn't open herself up to someone…anyone… _him_ – just to get shot down, or ripped apart, or shattered when they left her. Because they always left. She had a track record of scaring them away, or 'hurting them' away, or, or… 'just being herself' them away. And it hurt.

It hurt to think that her touch, her words, her presence wasn't enough to keep them. Or maybe it was the opposite, maybe her touch, her words, her presence were too much to keep them close. Either way. She was so tired of being broken. So tired of being left behind.

Being the one left behind was always so much more destructive, so much more scarring to the body and soul… and heart. And Callie had never been very tough to begin with. So with each separation, each break-up, she'd broken a bit more. Smaller pieces. New cracks. Harder to put back together.

Most of her lovers offered salve… and comfort. They offered glue and attachments. But they couldn't see all of the breaks. All of the blemishes and marred surfaces. And eventually the world seeped in to those hidden cracks, making her heavy and cumbersome. So she became too much; too much for them to hold together.

And they let go.

And Mark; Mark's 'letting go' always seemed to hurt so much more than the others. Being with him - being 'his'- was always so… breathtaking, so deep; so much like being whole. She could feel him everywhere. Every single time he touched her; every time he wrapped his hands around her shards and slivers and pulled all of her pieces together and held them there, in perfect moving balance -- tenuous and fleeting and flawless.

She couldn't take it again. Being held – perfectly -- then let go.

She shoved the lace outfit back in its bag, used the remote to turn off the tv, and pulled a blanket down over her frame. Sleep would be good.

***

"So Daddy thinks you're in Denver?" Callie pulled into the parking structure at SGH, and pulled the car to a stop.

"I _will_ be stopping in Denver, I don't want to lie to your father, I just wanted to make certain I got a chance to see you too." Mrs. Torres patted Callie's arm.

"But he didn't know you were coming to see me at all; he just thought you were going to visit cousin Marisa?"

"Your father doesn't need to know what I do every second of my day."

Callie snorted and pushed her door open.

"He'd have a cow if he knew you were even talking to me."

Her mother smoothed the material of her skirt before linking her arm with her daughter's. "He'd yell, in case you haven't noticed, he's good at bellowing, but your father would also ask how you were doing. He misses you."

Another snort from Callie; she so wasn't getting into another discussion about her father's maligned sense of right and wrong. How he could have fought for equal rights for so long and so adamantly, and still be such a bigot…?

Hugging her mother closer, she changed the topic. "So, I'll take you around the hospital, show you the OR and locker room and stuff and then… shopping?" Callie had been surprised by her mother's early morning request to get a tour of SGH, but her insistence that she wanted to see where her daughter performed miracles was hard to deny.

"Yes Love, we'll do the tour, you can introduce me to your friends, and then… shoe shopping!" The two women grinned at one another. Even stubborn stupid men could be forgotten when beautiful shoes were being looked at.

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Author's note: The mixed cd can be found at playlist . com ..... remove the spaces: http: //www .playlist .com/playlist/16177808907/standalone


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE** Those Other Dreams  
**CHAPTER** 2/3  
**AUTHOR** Devylish  
**FANDOM** Grey's Anatomy  
**PAIRING** Callie/Mark  
**WORDS** 4209  
**RATING** PG13  
**WARNINGS/SPOILERS/SUMMARY** Language. none. Part two of my entry for the Mark_Callie LJ Blind Number Challenge. Items chosen: Mrs. Torres, Lab coat, Denver.  
**DISCLAIMER** **Disclaimer** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show **Grey's Anatomy**. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show **Grey's Anatomy** and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.  
**AN **unbeta'd **AN** blackberry06 wanted me to make this part 10000 words, BWAH HA HA! is what I say to that, but... if it makes her feel any better… I have 4200+ here, and dang it all a THIRD chap to write! **AN** the red shoes: http:// www. shoes. com/ Shopping/ ProductDetails .aspx ?p=EC1129219&pg=5082544

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Callie had introduced her mother to Yang, and the Grey's… Hunt, Shepherd. And she was just chatting with a couple of her other co-workers in the cafeteria, when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother sit down next to none other than Mark Sloan. She groaned under her breath and turned back to finish her conversation. She'd extricate her mother from Mark's presence as soon as she could.

****

"I am so happy to see you here today Dr. Sloan," Mrs. Torres settled into the chair across from him. As he settled back into his own chair – she did lovvve gentlemanly behavior – he raised a brow at her. "'Mark'… I'm sorry, Mark."

"That's better, and it's nice to see you this morning too. Getting the two cent tour?"

"Yes, but I admit, I came to the hospital with an ulterior motive. I came to, hopefully, find you."

Mark sat back in his chair, a look of curiosity gracing his handsome features. "Looking for me for any particular reason… Anastacia?" His voice was slightly suggestive. He couldn't help it. First, she was a woman; a lovely woman. And second, she looked like Callie. He was done with married women…. But that didn't mean he couldn't flirt!

She blushed faintly before shaking her head in admonishment. "I'm too… mature for you, Mark. Besides," she straightened out the tray sitting in front of her, "you wouldn't know what to do with me." She looked up at him with a purely Calliope smile, before straightening her facial features and adding, "No, I came here looking for you because I wanted to ask you about your relationship with Calliope."

Mark sat up a little straighter in his chair and looked across the cafeteria to where Callie was talking to Bunche and Turner. He dragged his eyes back to Mrs. Torres. "My relationship with Callie?"

"I know you two have… had… had… well, I know you've been together," she glanced up at him then focused on her coffee again. "and –"

_Jesus what is it with the Torres Matriarch and Patriarch; you touch their daughter and suddenly you're under a microscope or staring down the barrel of a shotgun!_

"… I want to know why you broke up?"

The words blurted out of his mouth, bitterly, longingly, before he could even think about stopping them. "You have to be together first in order to 'break up'."

She looked at him, dissecting him with her eyes far better than any scalpel could. "I do 'know' that the two of you have been together. Callie admitted as much last night."

He sighed… _I'm going to have a talk about my… my sex-relationship-life with Callie's mom? Kill me now._ He tried to make his response short and clean; he should have known that wouldn't work, nothing about Callie and him would ever be short and clean. Everything about them would always be long and dirty. "We… hung out for a while. Off and on…. We're good friends. I think."

"Why aren't you… _more than_ good friends anymore?"

"We're still friends," he defended adamantly… and hopefully.

"She use to talk about you, you know? I could always tell when you were 'more in her life' or less in her life. The little, 'Mark and I went toos', or the little 'Mark and I were talkings'… they were there, then they were gone, then they were there… her conversations with me were like a map of your…'friendship'. And about, oh a year and a half ago… the 'Marks' just disappeared." Mrs. Torres looked him in the eyes steadily, "Why? I would like to know why you and Callie broke up. Why you never stayed together. Why you and my Calliope haven't been introduced to my husband and myself as 'Mark and Callie'? Como novios?"

"We never --," Mark thought of Callie's brilliant smile. He remembered her laughing at something stupid he'd done, and how the laughter hadn't stung, because he knew she cared. He recalled her nudging him when he was down or preoccupied, just to let him know she was near. He felt that damn spot in the middle of his chest tighten…, again, and he answered Mrs. Torres honestly. "I wish I knew."

"But you do love my baby?"

"I," _Christ! She wants me to admit to love? The only person I ever told I loved was my mom… and look how well that turned out._ "I care about Callie, a lot. She's amazing. As a matter of fact, amazing is too weak of a word to describe how great she is."

Anastacia Torres smiled at Mark. "She **is** 'amazing' isn't she? And she needs a special man," she paused and corrected herself, "or a special _person_ in her life. Someone who recognizes just how great she is, but who also… isn't afraid to rein her in a bit." Her smile grew bigger. "My Calliope has a strong spirit. She's like a thoroughbred. Beautiful and sweet, but she needs a good hand to… guide her."

Mark deadpanned, "Women's liberation doesn't mean much to you huh?"

"I don't want her controlled; she'd break the face of anyone who 'tried' to control her."

Mark laughed in agreement.

"What I envision as the perfect mate for my Callie, is someone who admires her for all of her greatness, and who protects her from all of her weaknesses. She knows she's a good doctor, she knows she's a beautiful woman, yet sometimes…, sometimes she forgets these things." She sipped her coffee, "The right person for Callie will… kick her in the ass," Mrs. Torres tinged pink at her own use of language, "when she's being… forgetful. But they will also hold her close at night when she's feeling uncertain and scared."

Mark didn't say that that was all he'd ever done for Callie, push her and pull her close, when he thought she needed it.

But he thought it.

"You strike me as a man who could… maybe, be Callie's match. And I wanted to know why you weren't in her life continually." Mrs. Torres paused. "If I'm not incorrect, you love my little girl." She held up her hand to stop him from responding to her use of the 'l' word. "And if I know anything about my Calliope, she feels… equally as strongly about you. She doesn't get riled up about the small things, the people, or things she doesn't care about. She only gets ruffled about those other people. Those other things. The things that matter to her." Mrs. Torres grinned. "You, my dear man, ruffle her feathers in a big way. Now the only question is, are you… man enough to finally do something about it?"

"Man en –" He was interrupted from his surprised self-defense statement by the arrival of the woman in question.

"Sorry that took so long mama," Callie nodded in his direction, "Sloan."

And suddenly everything came down around him. _This is what they'd come to? A cool nod? Second hand notice? _He took a deep breath then looked at Mrs. Torres. "I'll see what I can do to fix that problem ma'am." Standing up he turned his brilliant smile toward Callie… all 500 watts glowing in her direction. "I've invited your mother, and you, out to dinner tonight and your mother accepted…" He picked up his tray. "I'll pick you up at 8pm; wear something nice." He walked away before Callie could hit him… or decline the invitation.

Callie watched Mark walk away, her jaw slack. Turning back to her mom she narrowed her eyes. "What the hell just happened?"

"I believe, we just got asked out to dinner."

"… 'Wear something nice!'" She glanced down at her black jeans and black silk blouse. "I always look nice. I look nice in sweats. I look nice in _nothing_...! Wear something nice my ass!"

Mrs. Torres picked up her tray, bowing her head to hide her smile. _The man definitely ruffled her daughters' feathers._

***

Callie had bought shoes. Sinful i-couldn't-afford-these-if-mom-didn't-pay-for-them shoes. Red satin, four inch high, red satin, sling backs. Shoes that made her feel ready to face Mark Sloan. Shoes that made her feel strong… and sexy. Not that she especially wanted to feel sexy around Mark, but… well, _does it ever really hurt to feel sexy?_

****

"Mama are you ready yet?" Callie adjusted her cleavage just a bit in the mirror that graced the small hall that lead to her bathroom and bedroom.

Mrs. Torres responded from behind the closed bedroom door, "Asks the woman who spent two hours in the bathroom."

"It wasn't two hours," Callie mumbled as she braced herself against the wall, putting her heels on. "It was an hour and forty five minutes."

Walking to the bathroom, she opened the medicine cabinet, "Perfume… perfume." _Something sexy, but sophisticated… for my dinner with the ass." Burberry or Michael Kors_? Somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled that Mark had an affinity for the Kors. She spritzed some in the air and walked through it. Then she sprayed some on one of her wrists, rubbing the fragrance in.

Putting the bottle away, she took a deep breath and nervously shook her hands out. If there was anything she could do to get out of this 'thing' she'd do it. But no escape roué was in sight. Well maybe she could fake being sick; her stomach was doing flip flop/butterfly wing thingies. "

Jesus Christ," she whispered._ Why the hell am I even doing this? Going in a date – a chaperoned date, nonetheless – with Mark Sloan? Why is spending time with Mark freaking me out? I mean….. Jesus. I'm worried about impressing him! We aren't even the type to try and impress one another, but that's exactly what I'm trying to do; I'm fucking putting on fuck-me heels, and a killer dress, and his favorite perfume….! I'm trying to impress him! _She plopped down on the edge of the tub then jumped up so she wouldn't wrinkle the skirt of her dress.

She groaned_, He's making me act like a girl! How the hell is he suddenly doing that? _She forced herself to gingerly sit back down on the tub._ He's seen me in sweatpants and my grubbiest t-shirt._ She looked down at her red dress, briefly considering pulling it off and putting on some jeans. _Jeans would show him I couldn't care less about earning his approval. _She looked down at the dress again, it va va'd and it voom'd in all the right places. Enough cleavage to get a man's attention, but not enough to make her mother want to put her in a convent.

Callie growled. _Since when do I need to work to get Mark's attention?_

The apartment buzzer rang.

"Mama!" She yelled as she jumped up and skated to the buzzer, "Mark's here! You have one minute!" She took a deep breath and pressed the speaker. "Hello?!"

"It's me."

_As if he's the only 'me' I could possibly have!_ As she buzzed him up, Callie tried to make herself angry at him for the assumption, but then she recalled that there _had_ been a time when he **was** her 'me'; when he had been her person.

_Shit! I miss him_! She realized as she unlocked the door.

Turning back to the center of the apartment, prepared to finally wrestle her mother out of the bedroom, come hell or high water, Callie's jaw dropped open and her eyes widened.

Before her stood her mother, hair in a scarf, a robe wrapped round her petite, but curvy frame, and slippers upon her feet.

"Mother?" Callie tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Before she could berate/question/scream with frustration at her mother, the door behind her swung open, and she could feel Sloan's form behind her.

"Good you're both here now." Mrs. Torres smiled innocently. "I'm so sorry Mark, Callie, but I'm just not feeling up to going out tonight."

"Why didn't you mention this to me earlier mama?" Callie bit out the question with as much control as she could muster. "We could have saved Mark a trip here."

"Oh, no… I didn't want to ruin your night. You two can still go out."

Callie glanced at Mark, half accusingly/half apologetically. _Was he in on this_? Turning back to her mother, she gathered her wits about her and toed off a shoe. "I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you home alone Mama, especially not when you're feeling ill." She pivoted back to Mark, hobbling on one shoe, "I'm sorry Mark, but I can't –"

"Don't be ridiculous." Mrs. Torres interrupted with energy. "I'll just curl up on the couch, watch some television. You get Telemundo yes? It's… it's just a little upset stomach." She moved forward, bent down and picked up Callie's shoe, handing it to her daughter.

Pushing first Callie, and then Mark back toward the door, she continued. "You two go out, have fun, maybe bring me back piece of cake or pie. I'll be fine." She shoved Callie fully through the doorway and slammed the door shut behind the unwilling victims of her little scheme. With a sigh, she locked and bolted the door and leaned, tiredly, against it. "Dios mio, es difícil ser cupido."

***

Standing in the apartment hall with a shoe in her hand, Callie stared at her apartment door. "I may have to kill my own mother."

Mark had bitten his tongue for as long as he could but finally he had to give in; throwing his head back he gave a sharp bark of laughter. Mrs. Torres was wonderful. He was almost positive -- as positive as Callie was -- that her mother was faking an illness so that he and she would be 'forced' to spend some time alone together.

He chuckled; _the sight of Mrs. Torres pushing her daughter out of her own home -- hobbling on one shoe -- was priceless._

Priceless, that is, until Callie shot a look at him that let him know that she was more than ready to kill him for finding the situation funny.

Putting a damper on his laughter, Mark took a few steps towards Callie. "Here, let me help you with that." He reached for the shoe that she still held in her grasp and crouching before her, he held the shoe before her foot.

Callie looked down at him, at his close cut grey/brown hair, and suddenly, she wanted to touch him again. It was a feeling -- a desire -- she hadn't experienced in… in nearly two years. Leaning forward, just a bit, she gave in to her desire, letting her hand rest on his shoulder as she lifted her foot and let him slip her shoe on.

_How can this feel more intimate than anything else I've ever done with him? We've done… we've done some remarkably, incredibly intimate things. Things I've never done with anyone else. And yet this… him kneeling at my feet, his hand on my foot and ankle…._

She hadn't realized she was holding her breath until he stood up, and suddenly, it came rushing out in a soft wave.

In her heels she was face to face with him, breath to breath, eye to eye.

"Hi." _Why did I ever let her go?_

"Hi." _Is that my voice? Husky and deep and saying 'take me to bed' in just one word?_

"I made reservations at Bebbos." Mark let his eyes drop down to Callie's lips, and then he made himself back away from her. "We should probably go."

_Didn't he read the 'fuck me' tone in my voice?! Or doesn't he want me anymore? _"We don't have to go to dinner Mark. Really, I would be fine staying –"

"We're going!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall.

"I… but…! Mark! Slow down, these shoes aren't made for running! They're barely made for walking!"

He slowed down when they reached the top of the stairwell and turning back to face her, he grinned, bent over and lifted her over his shoulder.

"Sloaaannnnn!"

Callie continued to yelp his name and hit him on his back until they were half way down the three flights of stairs that led up to her landing. Then she just got silent.

He had to admit the silence was **way** more disturbing than the yelling.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs Mark patted Callie on the thigh. "Okay Cal, I'm going to put you down; don't start swearing at me…, or hitting me." He lowered her to the floor, letting his hands rest at her hips to steady her_. When was the last time I touched her? Held her close? Could it really have been two years? How could I have let two years __without__**Callie**__ go by?_ He tapped her hips lightly before releasing his grip on her.

Although thoughts of yelling and perhaps slugging Mark **had** been running through her head for the past few seconds, Callie scoffed aloud at his assertion that she'd do any such thing. "As if!"

He grinned, pushed the door open with one hand, and held his other hand out to her, "All right… 'Alicia'…" he glanced down at her feet then let his eyes drift back up her frame. "Think you can make it to my car in those gorgeous things?"

She lifted a brow then looked down at his hand. "Think you can walk at human speed? Or will I need to try and sprint in them again?"

Without waiting for a response she raised her hand to his; hiding her response to the electricity that flitted through her at his touch.

Following him out the door as he gently tugged her toward the street, she teased him just a bit, "So you're aware of Clueless huh? Kind of a chick flick for you, don't you think?"

"Shut up. The women in the movie were hot… little skirts, fitted sweaters…." Mark glanced back at Callie and dared her to pick on him again.

"Right. Gotcha."

****

She loved this. This moment right now.

They were walking along St. Anastah Ave.; his body close to hers, their pace slow and aimless.

Dinner had been… well…, awkward, at first. She'd found herself questioning every move, every word, every look he made; that she made.

Then their wine had arrived and he'd placed his hand on hers, briefly, and she'd felt the electricity again. And she'd stopped questioning and wondering 'why'. She simply accepted that Mark was here… by her side. Laughing, and teasing, and '**with her**' like he use to be.

Who cared 'why'?

After dinner they'd headed out of the restaurant and she'd turned to the valet station only to find Mark tugging her in the opposite direction.

"Walk with me?"

"O-okay."

They'd gone a couple of blocks, in silence, when he apparently recalled that she was wearing her beautiful, fuck-me, killer shoes. Stopping their progress he offered, "We can go back if you want. Unless you want to go barefoot?"

It was a perfect end of the summer night, warm, but breezy, and they were on a perfect street. Trees and grass lining the sidewalks of boutiques and cafes. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she eased first one, then the other foot out of her shoes. Before she could bend over to pick them up, Mark did so, and tucked the heels in one of his pockets.

"You're going to ruin your jacket." She slid her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder as they started to walk again.

"If it gives me five more minutes of walking time with you, it's worth it."

_God she hated/loved it when he was sweet and charming._

"So you and Arizona. Definitely done, huh?"

She stiffened slightly, then relaxed back into him. "Extra crispy, charcoal-y done."

"What happened?"

She paused before nuzzling her cheek against his arm. "I'll share if you tell me why Lexie dumped you."

"Fine. You first."

She hadn't really expected him to agree to her suggestion, but if he was willing to share…? Curiosity had been eating her alive about his breakup with Lexie.

"Short story shorter, Arizona thought I wasn't as in to her as I should be."

"Were you?"

She lifted her head and glanced up at Mark's chiseled jaw.

"I – I thought I was."

"I sense a 'but'."

"You're good at sensing butts."

He glanced over his shoulder, taking in Callie's curves. "Well, when you've got an ass like that…"

She hid her smile as she nudged him lightly before responding to his statement. "I thought I… we were in a good place, that we were moving forward, but ever since she called me on it, I… I guess…. She made my skin tingle," _but it wasn't electricity._ "And she made me forget to breathe," but _not from merely touching my foot_. "But…."

"But?"

"She didn't," _drive me mad, make me hate her so much that I was back in lo --,_ "get me. Not all of me."

They were silent. Comfortably in step with one another.

"Let's head back," he said when they reached the next comer. Walking across the street they started their stroll back towards Bebbos.

"So what about you? And Lexie? What happened there?"

"I dumped her ass."

Callie burst into laughter, "no, really! I shared my story! What happened?"

She looked up when Mark remained silent. "Holy shit! You weren't kidding! You broke up with Little Grey?!" She hit him on the arm. "You do know that everyone at SGH thinks she dumped you!?"

"So I've heard."

She pulled them to a stop and looked up at him. "You're being enigmatic. It doesn't suit you. Spill."

He grabbed her hand and made her start walking again. "I didn't think it was fair to keep stringing her along. So I called it off."

"Stringing her along?"

He sighed, "She wanted the picket fence, and little 'little Grey's'…, or Grey-Sloan's. She wanted a commitment."

"And you're not the commitment type." Callie nodded her head in understanding.

They walked in silence until they reached Bebbos again. Their thoughts separate but closer than either of them would have dared think.

As they waited for the valet to collect Mark's car, Mark moved to stand behind Callie, resting his head atop hers, his arms wrapped around her frame. _I'm a smart man. I __**know**__ I am, but, God I've been stupid_. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo, apples and cinnamon, and then… there was her perfume… his favorite…. "You smell good." _And feel good_.

Callie felt a shiver run through her system and she let her body settle against his. "You think?" _Score one for Kors._

He pulled her closer to his body an inhaled again. "I definitely think."

***

Pulling to a stop in front of Callie's apartment building, Mark broke the comfortable silence that they'd been driving in. "So, dinner? Tomorrow night?"

"I," she scowled as he slammed his door shut and strolled around to her side of the car. As he opened her door she quirked a brow. "It's not polite to ask a question and walk away."

Mark slammed the door shut after he'd helped her out. "I never claimed to be polite." Tugging her towards him as he leaned against the side of the car he asked her again. "So, dinner? Tomorrow?"

She curled into him. "Yes." She breathed his cologne. "… No. No. I can't, mama is flying to Denver tomorrow, her flight's at 930pm. I have to take her to the airport… hang out with her." She looked up at him. "I can't." _Dinner_? "But, maybe…, afterwards…," she played with the lapel of his suit. "You could meet me back here?" She felt his cock jump against her belly.

Mark lifted his hand to Callie's face, brushing the loose curls away from her cheeks_. I have to do this right. Do it differently. Make her understand_. "Lunch. Have lunch with me tomorrow."

She stared at him. _I just offered him carte blanche access to my bed and he's saying no? And asking me to lunch?! What the fuck is he doing?!_

He could see the confusion racing over her features. And he touched her cheek. "Meet me at SGH at 1:00." He leaned forward and kissed her nose before pushing away from the car and walking her to her apartment building door.

As she unlocked and opened the door, he spoke again. "You're wrong you know."

She leaned against the open door and looked at him questioningly.

Mark stepped up to her and bent his head slightly, brushing his lips against hers; the softness of her lips sending sparks and chills through his body. He pulled back a little, "I do want it."

Callie held on to the door, her knees weak from a barely there kiss. "W-want what?"

He took a mental picture of Callie, all soft and shimmery and vulnerable. "The picket fence, mini- Sloans, and… commitment. I just didn't want it with her." He tapped Callie's perfect nose with his index finger before turning and walking away… while he still could.


	3. Chapter 3

**TITLE** Those Other Dreams  
**CHAPTER** 3/3  
**AUTHOR** Devylish  
**FANDOM** Grey's Anatomy  
**PAIRING** Callie/Mark  
**WORDS** 1639  
**RATING** PG13  
**WARNINGS/SPOILERS/SUMMARY** Language. none. Part three of my entry for the Mark_Callie LJ Blind Number Challenge. Items chosen: Mrs. Torres, Lab coat, Denver.  
**DISCLAIMER** **Disclaimer** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show **Grey's Anatomy**. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show **Grey's Anatomy** and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.  
**AN **unbeta'd

* * *

They'd seen each other every day for the past week. They'd meet for lunch or dinner or both. And they'd laugh, they'd talk, they'd even kiss.

But that was it. Sloan would pull away from her just when she thought they were…well… about to get really friendly.

And it was frustrating the hell out of her.

She admitted it, she was confused. He seemed to want her. Hell, she'd felt the evidence of his desire for her. But he wasn't following through.

And then there was the whole… dating thing. At this point, she couldn't identify what they were doing as anything less than dating.

What she didn't understand, what she didn't get was 'why'.

They didn't do dates. They never had. They'd eaten together in the past. Had coffee and drinks together. But they were not 'daters'. They were bed buddies. Friends with benefits. This was what she knew. What she was comfortable with. What she wanted… what she thought he wanted. And now he was fucking with her mind.

Well enough was enough.

***

Callie was sitting in the third floor doctor's lounge, tucked in a rarely used, secluded corner, her eyes focused on her laptop while her ears were peeled on the conversation going on around her. Mark and Derek had come in about twenty minutes ago, the two of them drinking coffee and laughing about some guy thing.

She tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for them to finish what they were talking about. If Mark tried to leave first, she was going to just have to request to speak to him in private. Derek was a good enough guy to leave the room if he thought she had something important to say to Sloan.

Fortunately she didn't have to make any request as Derek's pager went off and he scampered out of the lounge.

Moving quickly, Callie headed to the door and locked it.

Mark looked up from his files when he heard the door lock, and leaned back in his chair. "Callie? What's up?"

Kicking off her tennis shoes, she reached under her lab coat, undid her scrub pants and let them drop to the floor. Stepping out of the pants, she moved closer to her goal: namely Mark.

Sitting up straight, he opened his mouth to… well he didn't know what he was opening his mouth to do, but he didn't get a chance to do much of anything other than let his jaw drop. Callie had fingered the buttons of her coat open revealing the white lace underwear he'd given her half-jokingly/half-seriously.

They looked damn serious at this point and time.

"Jesus…."

"I take it you like what you see?" She was standing right in front of him, white thigh highs, white lace panties, white underwire demi-bra, with her lab coat covering meager parts of her frame.

His cock having shifted from flaccid to rigid in a matter of seconds, Mark shifted slightly in his chair, an inadequate "uh huh" slipped out of his mouth.

"Good. Cuz I want you to be happy Mark." She straddled his slightly parted legs, resting her weight on his hips and thighs. "Really really happy."

_Slow! Remember the plan Sloan. Win her over, then… then…. What the fuck was the rest of the plan?_ His hands, of their own accord had settled on Callie's hips; his fingers digging into the silky flesh and into the way too obtrusive scraps of lace.

"Callie?"

"Markie?" Her voice was soft and her lips were against his ear as she leaned forward, flattening her curves against the plane of his body.

"…. Ungh."

She laughed quietly in his ear. "I see I haven't completely lost my touch."

He turned his head in towards her, breathing her skin. He loved her scent. He loved the feel of her – warm and supple against him. He loved --…. The purpose of _the plan_ -- the distance he'd imposed, the dating – rushed back to him. His grip on her hips tightened and he forced himself to arch his head away from her questing lips.

"Callie, baby, we can't… we can't do this."

She groaned before stiffening with rejection; pulling back from him, she demanded, "Why the fuck not?! What the fuck kind of game are you playing, Sloan?! Cuz, I don't get it, I mean…" she scrapped her nails against the front of his tented scrubs, "You're sending mixed messages here. What are you saying? You want 'it', you just don't want 'it' with me?!"

He grunted as her fingers passed over his length. The Plan, which hadn't been all that strong of a plan to begin with, was in a precarious position… it was a stroke away from complete failure. He gathered his wits to him at the same time that he reached for Callie's wrists and pulled them towards his chest.

"I'm sending one message Callie. Just one. I want you."

She leaned forward in triumph.

"…but baby, I want all of you."

Callie paused, confusion lacing her features. She glanced down at her half naked body, resting atop his frame. _What more can I…_

"Cal," he lifted his free hand to her chin, "I want you in my bed – our bed – every night. I want to come home to you, and for you to come home to me. I… I want own a dog and a cat with you." He rubbed his nose against hers. "I want to fight with you, and make up with you. I want to have a thousand little Callie lookalikes with you." He finally paused for a breath and he could feel her pulling away from him, trying to pull her wrists out of his grip.

"Mark let me go. Mark…!"

"Why? Are you going to run away?"

Suddenly she stopped struggling and curved into him burying her head against his shoulder. "We'd never work Mark; can't you see that? You're asking for the impossible. I… I'm crazy and possessive and, and… fragile. Mark, I'm so… if we didn't work, I wouldn't… it wouldn't be like it was with Erica or George, I wouldn't… I wouldn't have you to turn to. My best friend would be gone."

"Baby I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that now." Her voice was muffled against his body. "But what about when I drive you away. I drive everyone away." She lifted her head and glanced at him with a bitter smile. "It's my gift."

"Oh Callie, honey, you've got lots of gifts, pushing people away isn't one of them."

She dropped her head back to his shoulder. "Oh I can push people away… I'm thinking of teaching a course in it. Drive Lovers Away – 101.

"You've never driven me away. I'm still here. Four years and counting."

"Pfft, you've been gone for at least a year."

He released her wrists, letting them lay trapped between their bodies, and he let his hands return to her hips and ass, resting them on her curves. "You didn't push me away Callie, I walked away… because I was afraid. I was afraid of getting hurt. I was dumb, and stupid and blind, but, I came back. And I'm not afraid anymore. You can hurt me all you want," he gave a smile that she didn't see, "I'm not going anywhere."

She slid her arms from between their bodies, curling them up around his broad shoulders. She lifted her head to his, her lips brushing against his ear. "You could break me Mark." Her voice was so hushed, so defenseless. "Once I had you, I wouldn't survive the loss of you."

He could feel his heart stop beating. _She __**did**__ love him_. "The only way you're getting rid of me Torres is through the 'til death do us part' clause. And even then, I promise, I'll come back to haunt you."

She gave a muted, watery giggle.

And he smiled, hugging her closer.

"There will not be a thousand little Torres by the way. You might be able to talk me into two." He grinned and shifted beneath her, letting the stubble of his cheek brush her skin. Sighing against him, Callie added, "okay, four. We can aim for four."

****

"I'm still pissed at him." Callie puffed out angrily, her foot tapping against the floorboard. "How did you talk me into coming here again?"

"I think it was mind blowing orgasm number four. We're going in Callie." He climbed out of the rental car and walked around to Callie's door. When he opened it she glared up at him for a second, apparently weighing the pros and cons of fighting him, before finally giving in when she read the determined look in his eye.

She sighed and accepted his hand, "I'm not talking to him."

Mark shut the car door and wrapped an arm around Callie's waist, guiding her – protecting her – as they headed to the front door of Esteban and Anastacia Torres' home.

As the front door opened, Mark felt Callie's hand nervously tightening around his.

Esteban Torres stood at the door of his house, his eyes trained/focused/centered on his daughter. They stared at one another silently for a few seconds; Callie's grip on Mark's hand not loosening until Esteban, his eyes watering a bit, broke the silence. "Lo siento. Yo estaba equivocado. Usted siempre será mi niña, y te amo. ¿Me perdonas?"

Callie released Mark and flew at her father, encircling him in a hug that screamed love and forgiveness.

When Callie finally released her father, her mother was also at the door, a happy, knowing smile directed over her husband's shoulder at Mark.

"Daddy, this is Dr. Mark Sloan, mi novio." She glanced at her mother – a secretive smile on her face -- she'd show mama the ring after Mark had officially asked daddy for his permission..


End file.
